LITMIR.BIZ

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sticking to that lame story, was she?

      “Ah, Macy...” He shook his head, unable to resist a bitter smile. “A song so sweet each time I hear it played—but nevertheless no more convincing today than it was years ago.”

      She pressed her now ramrod-straight back against the leather seat and stared out the side window. “Then take me back to Kit’s Lodge, please. I have nothing more to say to you.”

      “Good.” He nodded agreeably. “Then I can talk and you can listen.”

      He turned the SUV onto the highway and pressed his foot on the accelerator. “I’ve been reading your blog since last November, ever since the city council and chamber of commerce first decided to storm the gates for inclusion.”

      She continued to gaze out the window, refusing to acknowledge his comment, so he continued. “It’s well done. Entertaining. I can see why it’s become popular.”

      Only the blast of the heater fan and the rhythmic squeak of windshield wipers slapping away the lightly falling snow filled the silence that followed his words.

      “But...after reviewing years of archived posts, it became clear that the content, the tone, has changed over time. It’s become bolder. More provocative. Tackling issues at a deeper level. If that’s what it takes to drive more traffic to your site then that’s your business. However—”

      She whipped toward him, fire in her eyes. “However what?”

      How well he remembered that look. That spunk. He’d been drawn to it. Delighted in it. But he’d learned his lesson the hard way.

      “This is my home.” He spoke with deliberate restraint, recognizing he’d started off all wrong. He’d riled her up too much and now she was ready for a fight. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He needed her cooperation, not opposition. “The people you’re trying to extract stories from are my friends and neighbors.”

      “And?”

      “They aren’t accustomed to dealing with the media. For the most part they’re open, transparent and trusting. They don’t realize the blog’s tasty morsels of thinly veiled gossip and tongue-in-cheek humor might hurt or embarrass them and their loved ones when it’s their own personal lives spotlighted on the web.”

      “So, what are you?” She seasoned her words with an unconvincing sweetness of tone. “The town’s official media cop?”

      “I’m an elected official.” He reached out to cut back the heat. It was sweltering in here now—or was that just him getting hot under the collar? “A city councilman. I represent these people.”

      He deliberately didn’t mention this was also a critical time for his own future. Even though he’d only been on the council a year, he hoped to be appointed to the vice mayor position left vacant last week when Parker Benedict stepped down for health reasons. He stood a chance, but he knew it was a long shot. He didn’t need a past shared with Macy Colston interfering with his prospects.

      To his annoyance, her sudden lilting laugh unexpectedly warmed his heart, leaving him aching to hear more.

      “Well, hello, Mr. Councilman.” She tilted her head, eyes now dancing. “You yourself said the city council decided to bring me here. Remember? You chose to compete with hundreds and hundreds of other small towns.”

      Caught off guard by her captivating smile, he studied her a long moment, their history momentarily forgotten. After all this time here she sat right next to him, every bit as alive and vibrant as he remembered. He had only to reach out and...

      He drew a steadying breath, eyes again riveted on the road. “I voted against it.”

      * * *

      Of course he had.

      Still reeling from the shock of finding Jake in Canyon Springs, Macy stared at his solemn, rugged profile and desperately wished the rest of the council had sided with him. She’d looked forward to this trip, to the opportunity it held for her blog, for her future. But now she wanted to be anywhere except sitting next to him, knowing he still didn’t understand her or her dreams. Her goals. He didn’t want to understand.

      He still believed she’d deliberately used both him and his accountant friend who’d told him of questionable practices where his friend worked. Jake’s harsh accusations from when she’d run with the story still rang in her ears. Selfish ambition. Unworthy of trust. Betrayal.

      She forced herself to maintain what she hoped was a pert smile, one that didn’t reveal the pain twisting in her heart. “Nevertheless, your town went all out to get me here with a convincing campaign.”

      A muscle tightened in his jaw. “I’m aware of that.”

      “So are you suggesting I let them down? Pack up and move on to the next town on my schedule?”

      No doubt that’s exactly what he’d like. She could see it clearly written all over him, from the top of his dark brown, sun-streaked hair to the tips of his well-oiled Western boots. Was it the same pair she teased him about the first day they’d met? She brushed the thought away, refusing to get sucked into memories of the past. She could see the resolve to be rid of her in the grim set of his mouth, the rigidity of his broad shoulders and the strong, steady hands clenching the steering wheel.

      Half a dozen years had passed, but time had only lent him a stronger aura of unbending determination. Had she, years ago, only wishfully imagined she’d coaxed out a softer, more playful side? Nevertheless, he was still a handsome, appealing man who surprisingly didn’t yet sport a wedding band. She kicked herself for noticing.

      “I’m only asking,” he continued, “that you remember these are real people with real lives. They aren’t celebrities striving to catch the world’s eye.”

      “But isn’t that why the town competed to have me come here? So the community can catch the world’s eye?” Her lips twitched in an amusement that belied the tightness in her throat. “Don’t think for a moment I’m unaware my blog has become a significant promotional tool for small towns across the country. Everywhere I go puts forgotten little places in the limelight, increasing tourism and drawing business. You think I’m using people to promote my blog, but maybe I’m the one being used.”

      Jake chuckled, but she sensed he didn’t share her perspective. “All I’m asking is that you not exploit anyone for your own purposes. I think you owe me that.”

      Her breath caught. “Patrick never would have come forward, Jake, and you know it. Not if I hadn’t put the story out there.”

      “You didn’t know him like I did. He needed time.”

      “Time for what? For his colleagues to further misappropriate funds? I waited and waited to see what he’d do. But when he sat on it for weeks...”

      “It took Patrick over a year to find another job. Did you know that? No one would trust him enough to hire him after you wrecked his reputation. He could have gone to jail.”

      A shaft of cold pierced through her, more chilling than the snow she’d stepped through with sandaled feet. “But he didn’t.”

      “No thanks to you.”

      “I did the right thing.”

      “Keep telling yourself that, Macy.”

      She strengthened her grip on the purse in her lap. “I’m a journalist. What we’re called to share with the public doesn’t always make us feel great.”

      “Called to share? Or share because it grabs the headlines? Gets picked up by a news wire service and blasted across the country with your byline? Your blog may not be a front-page newspaper story, but it’s still read all over the country. All I’m asking, Macy, is out of respect for me and a town I’ve come to care for that you’ll give me your word not to cross any lines.”

      She didn’t expect to unearth any shattering news in this tiny, off-the-beaten-path

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